


caught up

by aishiteita



Series: brijae is a Good but i guess im stuck here forever [2]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Break Up, Dysfunctional Relationships, Getting Back Together, M/M, bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishiteita/pseuds/aishiteita
Summary: And they ask,are you still caught up in all that?He's caught up forever. He's caught up with forever. He'll catch up with forever, forever.It's fine.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i had the song on repeat dont blame me...
> 
> also i l o v e ayeon iMS ORRY I MADE HER THIS WAY PLS KNOW I LOVE AYEON AND BRI AND LOVE THEM TOGETHER MY 93L ANGELS...... 
> 
> also also this doesnt make sense
> 
> but other than that have fun w unedited, deus ex machina shit yeheeONE WEEK TO VALENTINES AWJAO

If there's one thing Younghyun hates, it's going online to get greeted by half-assed edits telling him that past lovers are likened to hurricanes, to the deepest of cuts, to some universe that's called after their name and no, there should never be a galaxy named after Park Jaehyung, there should never be a hurricane or deep cut to follow him because no, Jae is anything but a big baby, and Younghyun had the misfortune— _has_ the misfortune, to still get tied up in said baby's business. If there's another thing that Younghyun hates, is that he's honestly not even bitter enough to counter the cheap poetry, and that he does sympathize, on good days, that indeed, it was a hurricane and a gash and some Big Bang manifestation all in one human being he had the privilege (not really) of calling a lover (boyfriend). The thing Younghyun hates the most, is that he wants to immediately retract all these thoughts even though they've never left the safety of his skull.

It was a hurricane when he left. Not Jae, Jae never left (much to his displeasure), it was Younghyun. He called it off. He had to slough through the mess that was Jae's room, turned theirs, now turned back to Jae's. He had to grit his teeth through the squeaking of hangers against the steel rod of Jae's closet, the missing buttons pooling at the corners along with lint and dust. He had to pick up the pieces of paper, the lyrics, the morning notes and evening messages. There was so much, and Younghyun looked at his palms after, calloused with two papercuts that stung and took well over two weeks to heal.

And people still ask him if he's still _caught up in all this—are you still caught up with all that, Hyun?_

"So you decided that oh, it's okay to fuck me up, and then fuck up my, well my _ex_ now _,_ while you're at it?"

To be frank, he's not really mad. Just a little bit, because Ayeon is a mess of good intentions and bad instincts to top off their needy selves desperate for somebody to hold hands with when they're not fucking. She didn't mean any harm. (But that's only because whatever they had in between them didn't have the space to allow any harm. Intimacy is a bed and bad jokes along with similar music taste because god knows he doesn't need to have a row about post-coital playlists of all things.)

Jae has his hands flailing about, fingers stuck to each other as he swipes at empty air. " _No_ , I decided to fuck with your dumbass ex because she goes and smooches every guy she sees! Behind your back!"

"I know she does! I know that very well but who the _fuck_ are you to meddle in my affairs like this?"

Again, he's not mad. He's just always itching to yell at Jae, like they can't ever talk properly anymore, like he can't feel human enough without screaming in Jae's face, get spit on his glasses. It's never fun but he can't stop, and he knows Jae wants to as well. They go at it, row after row like it's fun to play war and pretend they have enough decency within them to not hit each other. If he did have decency, however, Younghyun would've long since decked Jae in the face for shouting right in the middle of the bar that Ayeon is, in his words, a bitch, and then for calling her a dumbass right in front of Younghyun's face. Now, that's all if he has decency. He does not. He doesn't want to hit Jae for Ayeon's sake, he wants to hit Jae just because if he doesn't, it'd be him running his lungs dry, throat swollen and voice hoarse, lungs run down to the ground as he tramples over them, lets Jae trample over them.

"Oh, _affairs_." Jae drops his hands, lets his fingers brush against the frayed hem of his flannel. "Real funny, Bri. She doesn't just smooch, okay, she's been—she's been doing shit. Don't start pinning this on me when I'm just trying! To make sure you're not getting played by a bitch of all things—"

"The bitch here is _you_ , Jae, it's always been you and _will_ be you again because well! Here we are! Having this fucking heated discussion that I'm so glad to be a part of—"

"Shut up, Brian—"

" _You_ shut up," Younghyun snaps, feeling like he just got his lungs punched out of him as his chest heaves up and down. "Jesus, just. Spare me, please."

Jae and Brian. Brian and Jae. They had fun but Younghyun is tired, has been tired for a while, of Jae, and him with Jae, and himself in general. And it's a small thing, but he misses having someone call him _Younghyun,_ having someone not breathe on his neck twenty-four seven, not feeling like he has to breathe down someone's neck twenty-four seven. They denied this as _breathing in each other's air_ because that's the epitome of romance, is it not? This sort of breathing is not sustainable, they find in the end. Romance is dead was a joke turned nightmare that Younghyun regrets ever saying in Jae's presence.

"I was trying to look out for you," Jae reasons. Sometimes Younghyun can't see his eyes, glare from the bar's neon sign making his glasses completely pink and red.

"I didn't ask for you to."

Jae didn't take the breakup well. It was a lot of chasing, slews of texts, mostly unintelligible, some annoying, one or two desperate and ridiculously so that Younghyun almost reconsidered the boxes he had chucked into the trunk of his car.

"Never needed you to. I—you know. We ended things and. It wasn't," he takes a deep breath, exhales. "It wasn't exactly. Equal."

"So I'm at fault for dumping you."

"That terminology is terribly outdated but yes. I mean, no."

"Jae."

He did reconsider, but that led to sleepwalking and a lot of teeth grinding and he woke with sore jaws the next morning on the floor, next to his couch where they whiled away the weekends Jae didn't feel like cleaning his place. So he didn't run away that day, stopped in his tracks to look back and hold Jae squarely by his sharp shoulders. Younghyun's plea was the size of everything, yet he said it as softly, as quietly as nothing, _please stop, we can't do this anymore._

He realizes that he's using the same tone right now.

"I'm sorry I'm dealing with this so shittily, but believe me, I'm sorry, okay? I get it now. I won't make things stifling for you, I'll listen. I swear." He's heard these words before, but doesn't remember if it was outside a bar just like this one or if they were in front of their once favorite diner, putting on some sick evening show for the customers beyond the glass windows.

"Jae, look, I can't—"

"I'm willing to work anything out with you," Jae cuts him off, like he always does. "For you. Bri—Younghyun. Younghyun, c'mon."

And Younghyun knows Jae would. Frustrating as it was, he didn't leave words hanging. He pestered, ruthlessly jabbing at Younghyun's side whenever possible because _I don't want you to go to bed unhappy._ Jae was willing to go at it like they were at war every second they're alive, like that's all there is to them, and he was happy that way. He was fine with it. He saw the worth and Younghyun didn't.

Sometimes he'd wonder if there's anything wrong with him for not finding any point in them anymore.

(But is there a point in going at each other the way they did? The way they do? Hollowed out and practiced but they're going nowhere, the shots are all empty, all air and no one's supposed to be hurt but they're down for the count and bleeding everywhere as far as good, healthy eyes can see? Was he blind? Is he blind?)

"...You can call me Brian," he whispers, taking a few steps back to slump against a wall, let his back scratch against the chipping paint until he's bent in half, knees to his chest. "It's fine."

Jae mimics him, squatting before Younghyun with his hands around his knees. "But you've always liked Younghyun more."

And that he does. It's horrible, to be frank, it's like his kryptonite. Jae would ask him in that cooing voice, _Younghyun, please?_ and Younghyun would drop anything to run the other way around earth, to get to wherever Jae's waiting, to hold and fulfil and do something, anything. He wonders if he's ever done enough, if they were enough. If Jae was ever enough, because it's all kind of pitch black, where they are, and Younghyun is left to grasp blindly for the walls, find something to gauge just how much is too much and what's too little, what's killing them and what's keeping them alive.

"You ever thought I don't want this anymore?" Younghyun asks, smiling. He's half-curious as to how Jae perceives the very expression his face is making right now without his permission.

Jae doesn't respond in arguments like this, however, but neither does Younghyun. No nods, no shakes of the head, just empty staring at some vacant space between shoes, past the shoulder, some blemish at the corner of the lip. Nothing's changed; Jae doesn't say _yes_ or _no_ , but dares to cover the distance between them a bit, a hand reaching out to tug at the hem of Younghyun's sleeve.

"I did, but I'm selfish. You told me I was. I know I am. Would it kill you to go home with me?"

And Younghyun does; he hates it so much but he does, he wants to badly. His bones ache for a squeaky bed that gives way on the left side and his eyelids are too light to close for sleep these days. But what's a home when Jae's place has been rid of every trace of him? When he's been in places, when he's slept in beds that weren't his, weren't Jae's, when he's kissed people without knocking into glasses and the one time he did, he didn't scold the guy for it, no _get that shit off your face, babe, no, I don't care if you can't see me_?

He doesn't know where he's been. It's a scary thought, being anchored back with three fingers pinching his shirt; now all five of them bunching up the fabric and Younghyun can feel the heat of Jae's loose fist. Jae is pulling him back and it's a lost battle. They've been at it forever but Younghyun is ready to wave the white flag, he's just tying it up to the pole right now. _What if it would_ is a thought Younghyun entertains greatly, wants to spit in Jae's face, but he can't. He can't bring himself to imagine the repercussions of doing such, if Jae would actually raise his hands in surrender and retreat, leave Younghyun alone for the rest of a forever they jokingly promised each other over glasses of gin, leave the sentence hanging in stale air that they've been choking on and leave him to go to bed unhappy. Leave it be. Something he's said too many times as a sad excuse of an advice but Younghyun doesn't dare imagine what he'd do to himself if Jae takes it for once.

"I still have one sweater of yours," Jae confesses, "the really huge one? Black and red? It was still in the washing machine when you cleaned up. I didn't return it to you, I'm sorry."

Younghyun genuinely cracks a smile at that, lets the tiniest laugh escape his lips as his shoulders quake. "You're such a child, oh my god."

"I know I am," Jae grins back, "so baby me." Younghyun shakes his head at that, still laughing because it feels good, and he wants to relish in at least one more happy memory before whatever happens to them. Jae waves one hand to say, _okay_.

But laughing is a chore in itself, and Younghyun finds himself face-to-face with Jae, white flag ready, breaths steady. They're out of words, out of the bad to throw at each other with, out of the past because it wasn't a long one, whatever they had. That's why they have to fight it out like this, because they don't have anything written down as history yet, no one's grabbing the pen and paper. They're ready, Younghyun thinks, but he doesn't want to be the one keeping tabs on their collective damage.

"Kiss me," he says, plainly.

Jae responds likewise, hands unfolded, fingers splayed on the floor to bring himself up, Younghyun's shoes in between his knees. He looms over Younghyun, blocking everything in sight, blocking the neon lights that outlines Jae's flannel in pink and red, makes it possible to look at his eyes again and Younghyun is grateful to not see himself reflected in Jae's glasses. He kisses Younghyun, like this, not touching him at all, simply hovering, their lips meeting for only a couple of seconds before parting silently.

"I've given up, you know that?" Younghyun lifts a hand up to cup Jae's cheek, thumb rubbing at bone, smoothing out his sideburn. "I've surrendered. To you? It's a bad thing. Ayeon would kick our asses." He chuckles, pinching Jae's cheek lightly. "Dowoon would shove his sticks up our asses."

Jae backs away from the pinch before breaking into laughter, slowly leaning back into the touch, the tiniest smile playing on his chapped lips that Younghyun wouldn't mind kissing again, if only to feel more warmth from because wars are so cold despite the bullets of sweat constantly running down his back.

And they ask, _are you still caught up in all that?_

"I'll make it worth your while."

He's caught up forever. He's caught up with forever. He'll catch up with forever, forever.

It's fine.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [chorale] you were soooo fuckign prett y


End file.
